


to midgard, my love

by hoarmurath



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Mid-Credits Scene Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-13 00:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19588072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoarmurath/pseuds/hoarmurath
Summary: Fandral and Loki, after the fall of Asgard.





	to midgard, my love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



> Your requests inspired me to write something with Fandral, even though I did not quite resurrect him. I hope you enjoy the implications of this little fic and where their relationship might go in the future.

Fandral sits, the ship humming around him.

The time to make himself scarce in the corridors had come soon enough. They are all diminished here, worn through by loss. His mouth tastes like ash, no matter that the moment Loki set their home alight, he was helping people into the ship. He is not sure it can be washed out, just like his eyes will never stop seeing the ruin of Asgard itself, rent apart into stardust.

The door slides open. Loki steps inside.

This is the first time they have been alone since everything changed.

Fandral has so many questions, most of which boil down to how and why. However, they do not need to be answered just yet.

He stands up and makes his way over to Loki, takes his hand and pulls him inside. The door behind him clicks shut.

“I am sorry,” he says. Just as if he’d done any of it. The lies, the destruction.

Loki smiles, mouth bent. He smells like sweat and singed hair. Fandral never really asked how he got out of the palace, afterwards.

“Had to be done, all of it.”

Fandral makes to beckon him further into the strange chamber, but Loki leans into him instead, the skin of his forehead hot against Fandral’s, his breaths rapid. His tongue said one thing, his body says another, and so Fandral stays there with him. The years have taught him as much. Better to wait out whichever storm of hatred rushing inside his lover, his prince, his liege. They all know what Loki is by now, they all know the whys.

Only Fandral knows the haunt on Loki’s face as he’d set down his glamour that first night after Thor’s leaving. He had not even attempted to make Fandral think he was the Allfather. Not for a moment too long. Which is why they are both here, and nowhere else.

Finally, times later, Loki sighs.

“Shall we?” acerbic.

Fandral huffs and makes good on his plan: to find out whether the shower can fit both of them.

It is not at all like the pool back in the palace, they are crowded against one another so tightly it is hard to know where one ends and the other begins. Fandral thinks that is rather a good thing, to feel Loki’s pulse under his mouth, under his hands. Just as much washing him as making sure he came back whole, at least in the flesh. Loki himself bites into Fandral’s mouth once he tires of the gentleness, kisses him hard enough to leave him winded, then wraps himself close under the spray. His skin is cold, surging.

Again, they stand until the world reminds them of itself with a freezing jet of water. Loki laughs at Fandral’s curses, and despite the shivers in his body, the man himself thinks it rather worth it - to see the glitter in his lover's eyes again.

None of them are entirely themselves, but perhaps in time they may become so once more. 

It is only that they are wrapped around one another in bed, Loki’s curls sprawled in Fandral’s face that he dares to ask:

“Where now?”

There had been too much chaos before to demand the answer, but if Loki could spare himself to his lover’s company, then surely there is a destination in mind, the ship directed towards it.

“Midgard,” Loki says with low amusement.

“Midgard? The same Midgard that wanted to put you away for…before?”

How does one speak of such a thing? Of such a hurt? Fandral could have been faster to the Bifrost, but in the end they had stood side by side with Thor, both having lost him in a horrifying moment. Then, everything that came after. The invasion, the Avengers. The blue-shatter irises of Loki’s eyes, the denials. Fandral knows him, but he will never know what happened between the fall and the rise. None of them will, perhaps for the fact that Loki himself does not know.

“The same,” agrees Loki. “I asked much the same of Thor, and he said he is on my side.”

“Well, then.”

Fandral reaches for Loki’s hand, tangles their fingers together. If Midgard thinks they will have retribution, let them think once more. Fandral has lost him once, he does not intend to lose him again. He mulls over potential outcomes as they lie there, and quietly enough, Loki goes to sleep. A body can only take so more, even one that belongs to a god. As long as he rests, Fandral is his shield. So will it be, as long as he himself draws breath.

 _To Midgard, my love,_ thinks Fandral, feeling a hot bloom in his chest.

It might be something like hope.


End file.
